Raising Opie and his sister in the most wholesome town in America.
My September 11 story is here. Six years seems like forever ago but I can recall every minute of that day in sharp detail. I can’t let it pass without a moment of remembrance and a prayer for peace — the peace that means “no more wars” and the peace that means grace and comfort too.
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All this talk about the political candidates reminds me of a little story. Gather ’round, kids!
Back when I was a magazine editor, I worked for a smallish publication with an accordingly small staff. This meant we had to do everything ourselves, including stuff way out of our/my league. Once a year we put out a big story, one of those lists that are designed to garner lots of media attention and may or may not be based on fact. It was our version of the swimsuit issue (and in our case, it really was based on a tremendous amount of research and hard work–which I know because in later years I oversaw that project too).
To get the maximum bang out of this particular buck, we always had an event to promote our story when it was published. And somehow in 1996 I wound up in charge of this thing. Me, the young, green editor with less than zero event-planning experience. Me, the totally conflict-avoidant delicate young thing. Taking the lead on this breakfast honoring lots of multi-billion-dollar companies, attended by all our own corporate VIPs and advertisers. And the guest of honor: was the current vice president of the United States, Al Gore. Who also happened to be running for re-election at the time.
At one of the pre-party walk-throughs, someone from the campaign was there to check out all the arrangements. She was a fast-talking, take-no-guff, totally stereotypical New Yorker. She barked orders about security (yes ma’am, there would be bomb-sniffing dogs) and press access and what he’d say and how long he’d stay. She told us exactly how the room should be set up, and that included moving a grand piano across the room (because otherwise it would interfere with the TV cameras’ shots).
The banquet manager gently demurred on moving the piano, explaining that doing so would require extra staff time and also a charge for retuning the instrument. Our magazine was so poor that we used 5-inch floppy disks and didn’t have voice mail–I had an ancient answering machine with a cassette tape so old that callers would frequently inquire whether I was landing helicopters on my desk. So keeping costs down was absolutely essential.
For a few seconds I tried to broker a compromise with the scary campaign lady, sputtering out lame alternatives as quickly as I could come up with them. She, of course, was having none of it. Almost immediately, she wheeled to face me and yelled “He’s the vice president of the free world! MOVE THE PIANO!”
So yeah. We moved it. I voted for Clinton/Gore that year anyway. But I’m still kind of afraid of that campaign staffer.
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I have lamented before that whenever I go to New York, I get sick. I really don’t appreciate this because my trips there are for both business and pleasure, and it’s annoying to have either one disrupted by a vicious cold that turns into a sinus infection that turns into a barfathon prompted by the antibiotics that are supposed to be helping me get better. Plus, I hate the implication that my heretofore sturdy, city-tough immune system can no longer hack the mean streets (and subway cars) of NYC.
So. Next time I go, I’m bringing some Nozin. These wacky little sticks are billed as “sanitizers for the nose”–basically, the idea is to put up a no-germs-welcome barrier across your nostrils, since they otherwise put out a big old welcome mat for germs, viruses (virii?) and other cooties. It sounds squicky, but you basically take a cotton swab soaked with orange-scented, homeopathic liquid, put it just inside your nose and swish it around. It takes a minute to get the hang of the distribution system—you have to flick the swab’s handle and shake it a bit to get the liquid ready to apply, then snap the swab as if you’re going to break it in half to get the liquid to flow into the business end of the stick. (You can also just get it in a bottle and squeeze it onto a Q-tip yourself, but where’s the fun in that?)
I got a travel pack of 10 doses to review, courtesy of the Parent Bloggers Network. I was already a couple of days into a cold when they arrived. It didn’t seem fair to put them to the test once the snotties had already set in, but I had a deadline, people, so I did it anyway. And you know what? I could swear the cold was milder and shorter-lived than my usual cement-headed, leave-a-trail-of-Kleenex-in-my-wake, bitching-and-moaning-for-two-solid-weeks cough-and-sneeze fests. It was over in a week and never reached that kill-me-now low point where I couldn’t eat, sleep, breathe, or otherwise function. Who knows if Nozin or plain old luck should get the credit, but color me a satisfied customer.
What I liked: The smell, and how it felt when applied. The active ingredient here is alcohol, so I was afraid the stuff would burn my delicate nose-al skin. But there is enough orange scent and vitamin E to counteract the drying effects of the alcohol.
Also the art on the packaging. I just think it’s got a certain kitschy-cool appeal.
What I didn’t: At a dollar a dose, the travel pack is way pricey. Go for the 60-dose bottle–it even comes with some cotton swabs.
Who it’s for: Anyone who’s regularly exposed to germs–travelers, teachers, parents–and wants to try to head off colds and other icks before they start. Faith in homeopathic products a plus.
By the way: Kristen said I should include a picture of my nose. I’m sparing you because I really can’t top this little animated gif that Domestic Diva posted.
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…where you’re never more than 100 feet from a Bugaboo. Or a Starbucks. Or a purse dog.
Work is crazy and Internet access is spotty (read: pirated) so that’s my excuse for not posting or reading.
Hope to catch up soon.
PS Julie: I walked by Gate 210 the other morning and felt a great pang of homesickness. And then I was all, “This is the Port Authority Bus Terminal. Get over yourself.”
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